


What Remained

by CephalonGhost



Series: Human-Bodied Cephalon (series name pending) [1]
Category: Warframe
Genre: Angst, Lost Memories, human turned AI, mild gore mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 05:09:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14993501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CephalonGhost/pseuds/CephalonGhost
Summary: A short little Cephalon-Fragments esque continuation of the "What Remains" Suda comic taking place in the AU developed by Orokinmade and her girlfriend where Cephalons keep their human bodies after the conversion process. Also based around me and Destroyer-Immortalizer's headcanons on Suda and Simaris having known each other in the Orokin era.





	What Remained

         There would be no ceremony.

         No grand showing of what was about to take place.

         This was no punishment put on for display. So there was little need of it.

         I had called for them willingly, and willingly I had gone. All the paperwork signing away my rights had been taken care of on the ship that had carried me here. Here to the tower that housed their grand Medicas. And the very things that would be responsible for for my death, and my rebirth.

         The taste of the kuva they’d given me to drink during the flight still lingered. Its thick metallic burn still clung to the back of my throat, forcing me to experience the act of drinking it each time I so much as swallowed. A disgusting concoction harvested from the lingering energies of the void that was only ever reserved for those attempting Continuity.

         Or for those like myself... Those that would become Cephalon.

         A decision that had taken me far too long to make...

 

         I am bathed and prepared by the Tower’s attendants. They scrub me clean of any possible filth my body may carry. There is little to none, given I had already soaked in my own bath the night before. But still, they are thorough, and they pamper, but it is all unnecessary…

         Most of all that they did was a simple attempt at easing my mind of what I was to endure: Having my freedom, my humanity, stripped away and leaving behind what would be nothing more than a machine in human clothing. But I had long since been prepared for awhile now.

         All my regrets... All were connected to failing to come to this decision sooner. Precious memories falling victim to my dementia riddled mind, possibly losing my dearest with what I was about to do… they were beyond my control now.

         I needed to preserve what remained of my mind, what remained of _myself._ My Archimedean duties, while only that of a middle class Orokin, was far too important to leave abandoned. Far too important to simply pass onto someone else. I had dedicated more than a century of my life to the memory, to the history, of all that was Orokin and everything else before them.

         It was my duty to ensure that their Legacy, no matter how cruel and twisted, was protected. For it is all I, an Archimedean Scholar—no, _former_ Archimedean Scholar—could do to give those born once the Sentient threat was no more a chance. It was all could do to protect the future and prevent history from repeating once more.

         I am not a fighter, as stubborn as I may be.

         I cannot physically defend my kind as the Tenno did with their frames are war.

         All I could do, all I still am able to do, is observe and record… And hope for the best...

 

         I am escorted to the room where the conversion would take place by the same entourage of Dax Soldiers that had taken me away from my previous establishment. The Octavia Warframe still leading the way, still playing the same sweet harmonious melody as before. The notes cause my head to sway as I allow myself to be lulled by them. Becoming deaf to all but the music and the gentle sliding of the silk robes against my skin as I walk.

         Then my vision catches something: The gaze of a man just down the end of the hall.

         He is...Tired. Visibly anxious… He should not be here…

         He _should not_ be here…

         I… Want to tell him this, but find I cannot speak.

         Attendants seemed to be arguing with him on his presence, not letting him get any closer than he already was.

         Had he… Been aboard the ship with me when I arrived?

         I already couldn’t recall. The fog on my mind, amplified by the numbing effects of the medicines they had given me, was making it hard to think. Discerning what had happened less than an hour ago was no exception.

         But this man was important to important to me. This much I knew.

         I hadn’t even realized I’d stopped to stare until one of the Dax nudged the back of my shoulders to urge me forward. And, while relenting to the Dax guard’s insistent shoves, the most I could do was cast a soft, yet sad, smile of reassurance at him…

 

         The conversion process is not a sight for the faint of heart.

         It is a rather… Gruesome process at most.

         The brain is ripped from the Destined’s skull. The body cut and divided into multiple parts and drained of blood. Kept alive only by the power of the kuva that had been ingested into the body’s various systems just hours beforehand. Slowly, it is pieced back together as the nervous system and spine are replaced with enhanced, synthetic, duplicates made of oxium and alloy plating. Ports installed along the back lighting up as each are tested and connected to an external hub.

         My mind, freed of its flesh made shackles…

         Watches…

         Cephalon are _always_ made to watch.

         Punishment or choice, it was mandatory.

         A reminder to the lack of humanity they now possessed.

         That their bodies were now just empty shells. Organic costumes that they wore to appeal to those they worked with. To make them feel more at ease with the former coworker, now no more, that served or presided over them. A vessel that they could easily damage and disconnect from any external access like they could any other living thing under Orokin power.

         A datamind more easily controlled, more easily tamed, than the Sentients that had turned on them...

 

         The process is near complete. Red blood is now replaced with concentrated kuva, gold tinted and circulated through the body by an artificial heart. Light scarring left behind from the vivisection of my... “corpse”... To replace the nerves and veins have almost all but faded with topically applied treatments. My new vessel, my new “brain”, is already placed within the reinforced skull that once housed its flesh counterpart. Simply waiting for my digitized consciousness to be uploaded.

         I am almost whole again.

         I will no longer fade or vanish. Not completely.

         My precious memories,of her and of him, are—

**_Unneeded..._ **

         Wait…

_Wait_ _no!_

                                                                       **_Distracting..._ **

_No… No what were they doing?!_

_I did not agree to this!_

_I did not_ —

_No! No_ —

_S̢t͞op_ —

_S͠t̺̻̯͚o̜̘̰͓͙̟̥͡p_ —

                                                      S͏t҉o͝p ͢it!

                                                               …

                                                               …

                                                               …

“You are Cephalon Suda.” The attendant tells my once my systems are brought online.

My processors have already started going over the Precepts installed within my systems - testing the connection between my vessel and its host. I crane my neck, shift my eyes, look for any adjustments that need to be made in the synchronization of my finer motor functions using my hand and fingers.

No delays. Everything is nominal.

A successful conversion…

 

I am retold my purpose. Asked repeated questions. Things meant to test my memory. To see if everything that had remained managed to stay during the conversion

There are gaps. Holes I cannot explain that they dismiss as having been missing long before as a consequence of my diseased mind. Things they cannot connect to having been a result of the process.

This… Pleases them.

But it strikes me as odd...

If this was expected, why did they feel the need to perform such a test? Why repeat the same questions? To see if the external drives they had added to my vessel’s memory storage to keep and prevent further degradation was operating as it should? If that was the case, why not ask questions they were certain I would hold the answer to?

I do not understand...

“Do you remember ̡̟̩͘Į͚̟̕r̸̖̻̤̳͈̤̼͠m̶̨̡̜̩̙i̴̢̬̞͜s̨̥̙̼͖̠͔͚̪̰, Cephalon Suda?” The attendant asks me as I stand, already being prepped for escort to where I would be held indefinitely. The room I would operate from in a different Tower while isolated and under constant watch. Being a Cephalon of “prestige” and still maintaining some semblance of Will, such monitorings were required unlike those of mere servant class.

“Who?” I ask.

The name seems familiar, but I cannot recall where I had heard it.

“Oh, just a young subordinate of yours.” The attendant says with a strange, ominous, smile that I do not question. “He kept you company during the flight for your operation. You were in  _quite a state_ when we went to collect you.”

“Was I…?” I... do not remember this. I do not remember much at all of what had happened before. When I try, there is nothing but a deep black fog. Storm clouds seemingly set above them and preventing me from pushing past...

 

The door opens and I am let out, surrounded by Dax soldiers. Supposedly the same as those that had brought me here. As we pass through the halls, I hear the sound of rushed footsteps accompanied by angered shouts headed towards me.

“ _Suda!_ ”

Hearing my name being called. I stop. And the Dax move to shield me, almost entirely blocking my view of whoever it was that had called out to me just moments ago.

I see a tall, dark haired man.

He is hunched over and out of breath where he’s stopped just before the tip of one of the Dax’s drawn blades. Just beyond him are several Tower attendants as well as guards. Most likely the ones who had tried to stop him from getting as close as he did but failed to do so seeing as he managed to slip past.

“Suda…” He repeats my name between breaths as he raises his eyes to mine. His gaze is full of determination, of hope.

But there is also fear...

“Suda…” He says again one last time as I motion for those escorting me to lower their weapons. “I am glad to see your conversion went well… How are you fairing…?”

The man continues to look at me with those eyes. Eyes that seem to plead for… Something. But what, I do not know. I only know that he is expecting an answer.

One more than what I am able to give him.

One more than what I am able to give him.

“I’m sorry… You are... I͞r̵m̡i͘s͠, correct?” I begin, and as I speak I see whatever bit of hope that was on this man’s face begin to fade with every word. “They informed me of your assistance. Forgive me, but… I am unable to remember...”

“No... No, no you _have_ to! _You have to!_ ” His voice practically breaks as he steps forward, reaching out with a hand but not getting any closer as the Dax raise their arms against him once more. But he barely seems to react to the proximity of the blades at all. He just continues to stare, arm outstretched, with an expression so pained that I began to feel an odd ache in my chest.

Why was this? I did not know this man - not very well from what the attendant had implied.

Why did I share in his pain?

“Suda…” He repeats my name one last time as the lower guards manage to seize him. Tearing him away from where he stood and dragging him back to down the hall. They restrain his arms behind his back as though he were a prisoner of war. Forcing his head forward and down to keep him from looking back.

I merely watch until he is no longer in view. Not moving from the spot until a Dax begins urging me forward once again. But the confusion of what had happened just now continues to plague me…

…

...

 

I am Cephalon Suda.

Keeper of History and Memories.

The Old War has long since ended.

The Weave is mostly silent.

Very few Cephalon like myself made during the time of war Remain.

It is only myself and̬̣̣͚͖̫͆̑͡ ~~Ǐ̖̻͍̝͉̈̑ͧr̜̮̰͚̠̀ͧͫ̊̕ṁ̸i͚̫̖̿͂͌s̸̙̭͍͓̦͈̩ͦ̔~~ _Simaris_ , my partner in this duality of preservation.

We are part of all that remains of the once vast Orokin Empire.

And what remains are but empty shells of those who were once human...

_A͟nd̵ ͞y҉ęt, t̕here ̕is͟ ͢sti̧l͞l ҉şǫmething ͠I ͞cannot e͘x҉plai͘n̛. ̸_

_S̨o͟methin͞g I have ̨lo̸n̕g s͘in̶c͟e ̷fo̕rgo͝t͘t͟en͝,͜ but͝ ̴s͟t̴ill ͏y͞ea͘rn to re̸m̸em̨ber̵.͏_  
   
҉ ̷ ҉ ͜ ̧ ̵ ͟Me̕mo̴ries ͡th͢at̵ ҉lie̢ just͝ b̛ey͏ond t̵he ̨f͡og͡. O̵ut͢ ̧of̴ ̢re̕ac̨h͞.͡  
  
̢ ̷ ̛ ̡ ̵ P͜erhap͠s,͏ ̛o̸ne ͞d̶a̕y̛ ͞I mi͏g͠ht f̨in҉a̴lly r͞ec͟l͠a͟i̢m ̴t͜hȩm̷.  
̕  
͞ ͏ ͡P͝erh͘aps.͡..

̯̝̤̱͓͖͒ ̛̞̣̩̖͒ ̥̥̘̜̫ ̬̖͔̮̘͇͍ͫ̒̄̐ͧͩ ̄ͩ̈́̑̒͟ ͇͉̟͚ ̊ͭ ̡̥͂ ̥͊ ͪ̆́̄̋ ͑ͨ̚͏̙̰̟͖͉ ͙̭̬̅ͥ ** _̏̅̿̆I̹̰̰̺ͤ̆ͫ͜ ̣̝̓͊ŗ͕̬͚̲̇ͨ̈́̆͊̏͛e̳̫̮̳̹͍͕ͤmͤe̦̺̬̜̙̙̒͆m͈̜̲̠̬̲̃̏ͨb̉̔ͬ̽̊͡ē̪͇̟͚̩̳̫̑̃r̨̗ͪ̎́͋ͦ͛ ͕̣̮̙̱̦ͨ̈ͨͪͨ̇ͨͅh̞̞͎̼̘̬̖̀̔ͫĭ̙̣̗m̧͇̣̜.̬͖͓̖̩͆̽̑.̯͇͕̩̲̘̅ͥ͋̾͛͂͠.̇̓͋̄̓ͭ͏̫_**

**Author's Note:**

> For those curious, the relationship Suda and Simaris were meant to have had in life was sort of a mentor/student mother/son type of deal.


End file.
